Angel Choir
by Rizu Neko-Chan
Summary: Lettuce learns that sometimes gathering the confidence to do the right thing is harder than it sounds. Entry for IchigoMashimaro's AU oneshot contest.


(A.N./ Ah, the thrill of a contest. Here I am, entering another contest, this one being and A.U. oneshot one by IchigoMashimaro. Big thanks to her for hosting it!

I've had this idea tossing around for a bit, and this contest proved a perfect opportunity to submit this story. It's probably not my best work, and I seriously doubt I'll win if I'm going up against sakuuya, Kish's Kittie, and Kitty Kat K.O. -bows respectfully to the totally awesome authors- But it's fun, all the same, to write things for contests.

I hope you enjoy the story as much as I did writing it!)

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"_O little town of Bethlehem  
__How still we see thee lie  
__Above thy deep and dreamless sleep  
__The silent stars go by…"_

The angelic, unified voice of the choir filled my ears all around me, and I did my best to blend my voice in with them. I never liked the sound of my soprano; I was always too quiet when I sang. All the better, though, because I tended to be a bit flatter than the notes the tune called for.

My name is Midorkawa Lettuce, and I am a member of the Tokyo Studio Tour Choir. I was virtually forced into the choir at the age of five, when my mother first heard me sing and recognized so-called "talent" in my voice. For the first few weeks it had been fun, but I never really liked it a whole lot. I just considered it…boring. I made a few good friends there, too: Momomiya Ichigo and Fong Pudding. They made the class more bearable, and eventually became my best friends.

The tour choir was fairly large, and traveled all over the Tokyo metro area. Our appointment today, on Christmas Eve, was a roomy cathedral in the downtown district. It was packed full of people in huge dresses and fluffy, winter coats, which made for a more muffled tone when the choir sang. We tended to adapt, though, and just sang louder than usual.

The only thing that really bothered me was that the choir loft was so small that the forty or so of us had to squeeze together in a small, packed mass. On top of that, I was positioned in the third row to the back, crammed off to the side with Ichigo standing next to me. At least we could both suffer together.

I fingered the satin fabric of my white choir robe as I sang, fixing my eyes straight forward to the glossy, bright stain-glass window on the opposite side of the cathedral. Focusing on something else was my personal method for avoiding being nervous. It kept my mind off the hundreds of people listening to us below.

"_The hopes and fears of all the years  
__Are met in thee tonight"_

I nearly gagged when I missed a note horribly. I flushed bright red and kept my head bowed, hoping no one heard me.

_Third row from back, third row from back… _I reminded myself. The more I reminded myself that I couldn't be heard easily, the better I felt. Sure, deep down, I wish I could speak up and be heard more, but I'm not a great singer, so it would be best for me to remain backup.

Besides, it wasn't me who deserved the front row. It was people like the tall girl that always stood behind me, staying quiet and solemn. She had the most melodic voice in the whole choir, but she never requested the front row, and the teachers never put her there. Maybe it was because she was so serious looking all the time that she could never fit in on cheerful occasions. Or maybe it was because she was so tall that she would tower over the other people in the front row. Either way, she deserved it.

Even Ichigo had a wonderful voice; I envied her talent at singing. She had a beautiful soprano that evened out mine. She even had the looks of an angel, lucky girl. Her chocolate-brown eyes, shoulder-length red hair, and even skin tone made for a perfect angel figure.

Me? My voice wasn't nearly as good, my complexion wasn't as lovely, and I wore glasses. My mom had insisted on my wearing contacts a few years ago, when I had come home crying after a girl from the choir had called me "four-eyes". I objected, though, and she finally gave into my pleading. The idea of something sitting on your eye made me scared at the time, and I hated the idea. I guess I might be old enough to wear them now, but I just never asked. That's me - Miss Never-speak-up.

"_O morning stars together  
__Proclaim the holy birth  
__And praises sing to God the King  
__And Peace to men on earth"_

I listened for Ichigo's singing next to mine, but, when I heard none, I turned my head to glance in her direction. I immediately stopped singing and gasped when I saw that she had both hands on her throat, and was taking slow, gasping breaths. Her knees knocked together, and her face appeared absolutely pale. I bent down to her and tried to communicate, whispering,

"_Ichigo-san! Are you okay?! Ichigo-san!" _She didn't reply, only sending a pleading glance in my direction before staring wide-eyed in front of her.

I stood up again, looking around the cramped mass of people for some indication that anyone else noticed Ichigo. The row behind us didn't seem to notice a change, or was just ignoring us for the sake of the choir. I bit my lip when I realized that they would be right to ignore Ichigo, since stopping the choir meant ruining the whole performance we had been practicing long and hard for.

I looked back down to Ichigo, who was bent over her legs, taking in breaths faster than before.

"_No ear may his His coming,  
__But in this world of sin…"_

I listened to the people around me. We seemed to be nearing the last stanza, but by the looks of Ichigo, she wasn't going to last until the end of the song.

What was I going to do? If I was to interrupt, then the whole program would be ruined! But if I didn't, then Ichigo might suffer the consequences.

"_O holy Child of Bethlehem  
Descend to us, we pray…"_

A bead of sweat slid down my face as I rose up to full height and cupped my hands over my mouth, calling to our director in front of us,

"Akasaka-sensei!" I received a few bitter looks from some of the girls in my row before I tried again. My heart beat faster, and I clenched my jaw in frustration. In a burst of confidence, I yelled as loud as I could manage,

"_AKASAKA-SENSEI! ICHIGO-SAN IS HAVING AN ASTHMA ATTACK!"_

I was sure I was doomed when the choir came to a dead halt, and everybody stared in my direction. A few awkward seconds passed as I caught my breath, then I said again,

"Ichigo-san needs help, now!"

Our director, Akasaka, shoved his way through the packed choir to our row with difficutly, muttering a few "Excuse me"s and "Pardon me"s. Once he made it to our row, he dropped down beside Ichigo and checked her forehead for her temperature, then placed his two fingers on her neck to check her heart rate. He face looked grim as he turned to me.

"Could you help me get her down into the lobby?" he turned to rows behind us, "Who here has a cell phone?" Surprisingly, the tall, beautiful girl I admired so much in the back row raised her hand. She took her phone out from the pocket of her skirt under her white robe and flipped it open. I heard her dialing 9-1-1, and she held it up to her ear. Akasaka nodded to me, and we both took Ichigo's weight upon us, draping her arms around our shoulders. We carried her to the small, wooden staircase behind the last row and descended carefully. I strained my muscles under the weight, and forced myself to keep moving. Ichigo's gasps of air were getting deeper and more desperate, and her eyes were shut tightly closed.

I mumbled words of encouragement to her as we descended,

"Ichigo-san, hold on, we're almost there. You're almost there, Ichigo-san. Help is on the way." Some of the words were encouragement for myself as well.

Akasaka looked straight ahead, his eyes showing worry and concern. He had to be one of the kindest people I've ever met. He was always slow to correct, but kindly nudged me in the right direction if I was ever doing something wrong in choir practice. No one knew where his kindness sprouted from, but a rumor had been passing along that he is widowed, and he is taking after his wife's kindness and quickness to reach out to others. A good Samaritan act such as this came only natural for him. I looked up to him as my role model because of his kindness.

Once we finally reached the bottom of the stairs, what seemed like half of the congregation was gathered in the hallway, helping us around and asking if we needed any help. I asked one of them, who seemed to be the preacher, if he could call Ichigo's parents. He obliged and borrowed another congregational member's cell phone, dialing the number as I gave it to him,

"…7-0-5. Thank you very much, sir." I said, nodding my head in thankfulness.

"It's no trouble," he said, holding the phone up to his ear, "I'm just praying that your friend is alright." I nodded and lowered my head, moving in sync with Akasaka's steps as we made our way to the heavy church doors.

The sound of high-pitched sirens rang outside.

After that, everything seemed to move in a blur. Ichigo was safely loaded into the ambulance and was taken to the hospital. Akasaka and I waited out at the church for Ichigo's parents, then I related the story to them as we drove to the designated hospital. Her dad seemed like he was ready to have an asthma attack himself, and her mom wanted to hear every single detail on what happened. She told us that Ichigo hasn't had a asthma attack since she was very young, and that she certainly didn't expect another one again.

Once we were at the hospital, Mr. and Mrs. Momomiya, Akasaka, and I were informed that Ichigo was in stable condition, and she should be back out of the hospital in a day or two. Her dad seemed relieved, and demanded to see her at once. Her mom just held him back from threatening the poor nurse, and politely asked if she was allowed visitors.

Akasaka and I went in to visit her also, and found her to be asleep under an oxygen mask with an IV stuck in her arm. Her breathing seemed to be back to normal, and she appeared peaceful again. I smiled to myself as Akasaka and I left the hospital, glad that she was alright.

The car ride back to my home was more than awkward. Akasaka had called for a ride from his nearby nephew, Shirogane Ryou. I was blushing and fumbling about like an idiot around him, since that's usually what I act like around cute boys. It was extremely embarrassing, and I insisted on the back seat, farthest away from the source of my blush-o-rama.

I fiddled with my hands nervously as Akasaka gave Ryou the summary of events.

"…I also spoke to the preacher a bit," he said, "and he said that the congregation still thought our singing was wonderful, and they'll keep Ichigo in their prayers." I sighed discreetly in relief. I hadn't ruined it.

Akasaka turned to me,

"Midorkawa-san?" I lifted my head up,

"Y-yes?"

"That was very brave of you," he said, "I'm glad you spoke up when you did. Ichigo thanks you greatly, I'm sure. You're quite the hero."

I blushed and looked down at my skirt as he spoke.

"Th-thank you…" I mumbled under a heap of embarrassment. I pushed my glasses up higher on the bridge of my nose.

I glanced out the car window, looking on at the dark black night sky. My muscles relaxed and I sighed, closing my eyes. Peace settled down upon me as I slowly drifted off into a deep sleep...

_We hear the Christmas angels  
The great glad tidings tell  
O come to us, abide with us  
Our Lord Emmanuel _

_-_


End file.
